


Daybreak

by TeamDamon



Series: Before I Go [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Sadness, Slash, Stucky - Freeform, These poor boys, but also sexytimes, my gosh what's even happening to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamDamon/pseuds/TeamDamon
Summary: After the disastrous final fight in Siberia, Steve and Bucky retreat into hiding and lay low while they recover from their injuries. They're not the same men they used to be before the war that separated then, but even now, after all they've seen and done all these years later, nothing can break their battle-tested bond. Set at the end of Civil War, before the post-credit scenes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at legitimate Stucky, guys. Hope you like it! :D

The Quinjet touched down in a small, abandoned field outside of Kasimov, Russia, away from prying eyes and even from any residents for at least twenty miles. It was the dead of night at the end of a very long, _long_ , terrible day, and both of the aircraft's occupants were bloody and bruised and quite literally beat to hell.

Powering down the aircraft and drawing in a breath that was too deep and made his aching ribs hurt worse than they already were, Steve unbuckled himself from his seat and looked behind him. As soon as he did, that ache within only grew exponentially worse.

Bucky wasn't sleeping. That was too gentle of a word for his current state. He was unconscious and slumped in his own seat, only buckled in because Steve had managed to fasten all the restraints before they took off, and he was pale and bloody and hurt and...

Steve swallowed hard and looked away for a moment, trying to mentally curb the nausea rolling through his stomach. Once they'd left the old Hydra base in Siberia and gotten into the Quinjet, Bucky had stared at what was left of his metal arm until Steve had forced him to stop. The longer that he looked at it, the paler his skin grew and the darker and further away his eyes became, and Steve's heart had lurched in ways that inspired both rage and immeasurable sadness in his very bones.

Then Bucky had babbled something half in English and half in a language Steve wasn't even sure of, and he fell unconscious only a few moments later after breathing out the coordinates to a safe house. Steve didn't know what he had gone through all those years ago after he fell - though he could imagine, and he did, far more than was healthy - but he could only assume how having his left arm ripped off again, even an artificial one this time, was uniquely and sickeningly horrifying. He was probably reliving the whole entire original experience, not to mention how much pain he must have been in.

Steve tried to wake him up, but he was still out cold. Not having the heart to force the issue, Steve simply pulled him out of the chair and got him to his feet, then supported his mostly dead weight as he started walking them out. Bucky woke up enough to walk on his own a little bit, but they both stayed silent as they left the aircraft and made their way to the safe house's front door.

Steve wondered if Bucky had safe houses all over the world from his Winter Soldier days. The thought wasn't a reassuring one, but if it was true, at least it was coming in handy now. They wouldn't be able to stay here for long, but they should at least be able to get cleaned up and patched up and sleep long enough to function the next day.

It was a small and old house, somewhat dilapidated and the sort of forgotten-looking residence that wouldn't make anyone think twice. That was the point, of course, and when they walked across a creaky, splintering wooden front deck to the front door, they walked inside to one of the dustiest and most depressingly empty houses he'd ever seen in the current century.

But it seemed fitting, somehow, after what they'd both just endured. After all, Bucky wasn't the only wanted fugitive anymore. Steve was now a wanted international criminal too, though that was the farthest thing from his mind as the door swung shut behind them and Steve looked around the dark house in mild confusion.

"Remember where the bathroom is?" Steve muttered dryly.

Bucky, leaning on Steve's side, opened his eyes blearily and replied, "Upstairs."

Of course. He should have figured even that wouldn't be easy.

Together, the two of them made their way upstairs as slowly as two men of their actual chronological ages might have, one step at a time. Steve was exhausted himself and in pain in quite a few places but he barely registered it, focusing everything on keeping Bucky going and getting him to where they needed to go.

The first door that they encountered in the tiny, musty-smelling hallway was one that opened to the sole bedroom in the whole place. Steve decided to steer them there first, walking Bucky inside and flipping on the light, letting him go when Bucky shifted away to lean against the doorway.

Steve looked at Bucky and clenched his jaw at what he saw. His eyes were closed again, breathing labored and body slumped against the wall, but he only spent a few seconds like that before he opened his eyes and then determinedly, slowly, made his way to the queen sized bed at the room's center.

Bucky sat down with a small, pained groan on the edge of the bed, furrowing his brows and glancing at what was left of his left arm again. The blast that had taken the limb off had been so imprecise and crude and the evidence was in the mess of mangled wires and metal that was left behind. Steve's mind was racing, wanting to get that stump covered so Bucky couldn't look at it, wanting to get him cleaned up, get him some water and some kind of food, but he couldn't do all those things at once. He had to prioritize, and in the end he decided to find them both clothes to change into first.

The small dresser in the room across from the bed ended up containing the basic essentials for them both, as Steve soon found out. He had no idea if the clothes had ever been worn or even what decade they were from, but they would work for the time being. He set down a white t-shirt and dark blue pants next to Bucky and asked as Bucky rubbed his right hand over his left shoulder, "Do you... do you want to get cleaned up first, or... maybe need some help with... that?"

Bucky briefly glanced up at him before shaking his head and dropping his hand. "No. I can manage." He paused. "I think."

Steve sighed and gave his right shoulder a small, comforting pat. "Okay. I'll go see what I can find in the bathroom. Let me know if you need anything."

Bucky nodded absently, eyeing the clothes with a clear but subtle dread in his eyes. Steve wished he'd just accept his help, but he also knew better than to smother him or make him feel as if he needed help. He'd always been like that, even back when they were kids, and Bucky probably needed right now more than ever to not feel as if his independence had been compromised.

So Steve stepped away and retreated to the tiny, barely-functioning bathroom across the hall. By some miracle the hot water worked, so Steve washed off his face and his hands as best as he could before peeling himself out of his uniform and putting on the old clothes, which were a size or two too small but got the job done. Then he located the first aid kit under the sink, and he was on his way out when he caught his reflection in the mirror and paused to stare at the mystery looking back at him.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt so confused and so sure of himself at the same time. He didn't regret a single action that he'd taken since the start of this whole mess, from getting to Bucky before the authorities did in Romania to dropping the shield only hours earlier and giving up his mantle for the sake of something - or rather someone - who meant even more to him than Captain America ever had. But his actions had also led them both here and caused Bucky's injuries, and Steve had no idea what all of these events meant for the future. Especially Bucky's future.

A quiet groan of pain from the bedroom broke Steve's train of thought, and he quickly caught himself and left the bathroom, armed with supplies. When he walked back into the bedroom, he found Bucky dressed and sagging a little, all of that effort clearly taking what little strength he had left right out of him. The short sleeve of the t-shirt he wore covered what was left of his metal arm, so he at least couldn't stare at it anymore. He looked up when Steve walked back inside, eyeing the first aid kit and letting out a low sigh but not protesting when Steve sat next to him and handed him a warm, damp cloth to wipe the dried blood off his face.

Bucky's makeshift uniform laid at the floor near his feet, bloody and in dire need of a wash that it wasn't gonna get any time soon. Steve watched him warily as he cleaned off his face, the cloth almost entirely pink with blood once he was done with it, and then Steve held up a few alcohol swabs and said sympathetically, "I gotta... it's gonna hurt, but..."

"Just get it over with," Bucky grumbled, so that was what Steve did. Knowing that Bucky would heal almost as fast as he would himself, he made quick work of cleaning all the visible cuts on Bucky's face and in his hairline - the worst might have been his nose, courtesy of Tony's iron boot when Bucky had been laying there defenseless - and Bucky stayed quiet and strong through it all.

He even cracked a small joke as Steve put a small bandage just over his right brow, forcing a tiny, pained grin as he said, "Feels kinda like I should be the one patching you up. Always used to be."

Steve paused and asked, "You remember that?"

Bucky glanced down at the floor and muttered, "I remember everything, Steve."

"So you really were lying to me back in Romania," Steve noted, drawing away and setting the first aid kit aside for the time being. He needed some attention himself but it could wait.

"Wasn't exactly expecting to come home and find you there," Bucky said in defense of himself. Then he paused and added, "Glad I did, though."

"I don't know," Steve sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring forward at nothing in particular. "You might have been better off without me. Might have gotten away faster. Avoided all of this."

"You know I wouldn't have," Bucky replied. "Don't think there was any avoiding any of this."

And what a disheartening idea that was. But Steve still wasn't sure. "Tony, after they brought you in... he offered me a deal. I sign the Accords, he gets you transferred to the States to a psych facility instead of prison. I was gonna sign, I was, but then I found out he had Wanda locked in her room at the compound and I just... I couldn't."

"Wouldn't have mattered if you signed anyway," Bucky noted somewhat miserably. "Not with what happened after."

Steve nodded. Zemo triggering Bucky changed everything. It set the course of events on autopilot and stayed stuck that way, to where Steve felt powerless almost the entire time and like he was just a passenger to it all, unfolding like a particularly horrible nightmare.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said quietly and unexpectedly, voice strained.

Steve turned and looked at him in surprise. "For what?"

"Everything," Bucky said, still not looking him in the eye. "I'm the reason all of this happened. Why your friends are in prison. Why Stark... all of it."

"No," Steve shook his head, watching Bucky's eyes get a little glassy and a little darker. "No you're not. Zemo did all of this. He played us all. Played on the worst parts of us that he possibly could have."

Bucky gave a small, seemingly careless shrug. "All he had to do was show Stark the video. Can't blame him for reacting like he did. I deserved it. You didn't, but I did."

Steve shook his head and angrily snapped the first aid kit back together, pushing it off the bed and to the floor as he grumbled, " _No_ , you didn't. You haven't deserved any of this."

Bucky chuckled hollowly, more just an airy noise through his nose, and he said, "Maybe you'd think different if you remembered what I do."

And the thing was, Steve couldn't really argue with that. For all that he had been through in his complicated lifetime, he'd never experienced anything like what Bucky had. He could only imagine the guilt and the self-hatred that he'd struggle with if he had.

"Look," Steve said quietly, "I can't tell you how you should feel. I'm sure I'd feel the same if it was me. But what I can tell you is that I don't regret anything I've done over this last week. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat."

"I know," Bucky nodded, finally looking up at his friend. "You're still an idiot."

Steve couldn't help it. He grinned and then huffed out a laugh, watching Bucky grin back a little bit too. "Well. Some things never change, right?"

That seemed to ruin Bucky's short-lived moment of light-heartedness. His face slowly fell and he looked away again, seeming to wrestle with something inside. "Some things do."

Steve knew what he meant by that. "I know you're different now, Bucky. And that's okay. I'm different now, too."

Bucky glanced up at him, expression skeptical. "I don't know. You seem the same to me."

"Well," Steve sighed, leaning back and looking down at his hands, knuckles bruised and joints aching, though he knew it wouldn't last long. "Trust me. I have. Hopefully not for the worse, but... I don't know. It's been a weird century so far."

"Aliens are real," Bucky noted, watching his fingers play absently with the rough, old material of his pants near his knee.

"Yeah. I'm friends with one," Steve chuckled.

"But still no flying cars."

Steve shook his head. "Still no flying cars."

Silence fell for a moment, and Steve was caught by how familiar and how different someone could be all at once. This was still the same man that Steve had grown up with and had known since they were kids on a Brooklyn playground, and yet he was, at the same time, no longer that same person. It might have been harder for Steve to accept had he not felt similar deep down inside. It was something he couldn't fully express to anyone in a way that made sense, but Bucky could understand. He might have been the only one in the whole world who could.

"You left your shield back there."

Steve lifted his head, glancing at Bucky again. "Yeah."

"Does that mean you're done?" Bucky asked.

"... I'm not sure," Steve admitted. He'd hardly had time to process it all, let alone come to any real concrete decision, but one thing was at least clear. "I don't know if I'll be done, exactly, but... I can't be _Captain America_ anymore. Not like this. Not after everything that's happened."

"... S'my fault," Bucky muttered, looking away again.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "No, it's not. And you can argue all you want, but I'm not gonna budge on that point."

Bucky didn't reply, putting one side of his hair behind his ear and briefly closing his eyes, like he could hardly hold them open anymore. Steve noticed this and said, "We should both probably try to sleep while we can. I'll go get us some water," he said, getting up. "I'll be right back."

Bucky nodded, glancing back at the bed as Steve made his way out of the room. Steve bypassed the kitchen in favor of water bottles stored in the Quinjet, not wanting to take a chance on what would come out of the kitchen faucet. By the time he came back inside the house and returned to the bedroom, Bucky was sprawled out on the left side of the bed above the covers, seemingly asleep already.

Setting the waters down on the old rickety table with a full inch of dust next to the bed, Steve debated for a moment on what to do. He could go downstairs and crash on a couch that he could barely fit one leg on, or he could just take the left side of the bed and sleep next to Bucky like he had countless times before. He wouldn't have thought twice about it back then, and he only was now because he wasn't sure of Bucky's state of mind or willingness to be in close quarters with anyone, even him.

But in the end, exhaustion won out and Steve crawled on the unoccupied side of the bed, eyes feeling unbearably heavy once the prospect of sleep was more than just a theoretical thing. But he hadn't even settled in fully before Bucky suddenly awoke, looking over in bleary alarm and tensing like he was about to bolt from the bed and possibly the whole room.

Steve froze, watching him sit halfway up with a somewhat wild look in his eye. "What? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

After blinking rapidly a few times and looking around like he was trying to remember where he was, Bucky managed to mutter, "I - yeah, I just... I haven't... s'been a long time since..."

Steve studied him carefully, taking a guess as to what was bothering him. "Since you weren't alone?" When Bucky nodded, still not relaxing back down to the bed, Steve nodded and said, "I'm sorry. I can go downstairs instead, but I just thought - since we always used to -"

"Yeah, yeah, when we were kids," Bucky nodded, furrowing his brows like he was trying to remember. "I know."

"But I can leave if you'd rather have the room to yourself, if -"

"No, it's okay," Bucky said, easing back down a bit, letting out a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"It's really no problem if you'd rather -"

" _Steve_ ," Bucky said with clear exasperation, "I said I'm fine."

Steve took a breath and finally relented, ceasing his babbling. "Okay. Sorry. Just... didn't want to..."

"Yeah, I know," Bucky replied, settling back down on his back, head nestled in the regrettably flat pillow beneath it. "Thanks."

Steve settled down as well, also laying on his back and keeping his eyes on the ceiling, unlike Bucky who already looked like he was half asleep. It was a testament to his comfort level with Steve that he could drift back to sleep so quickly, and he decided to take that as a positive sign. He needed as many of those as he could get.

Steve closed his eyes and let his breathing even out, welcoming the pull of sleep until Bucky's voice unexpectedly made him startle back to full consciousness.

"What are you gonna do about your friends?"

Steve frowned and thought back to when they'd left the base in Siberia. T'Challa had been there, holding Baron Zemo down and restraining him until authorities could arrive and apprehend him. He and Steve had shared a few words, and Steve learned that T'Challa had followed Tony to the base from the Raft, where the other Avengers were imprisoned.

"I don't know," Steve replied. "But I'll get them out. One way or another."

Bucky was quiet for a moment. "I'll help. If you want me to."

Steve nodded, though Bucky's eyes were still closed and he couldn't see the gesture. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll figure it out."

"... What about that girl you kissed? What was her name?"

A small, fleeting grin tugged at Steve's lips. "Sharon. Sharon Carter."

Bucky's eyes opened. "Carter?"

"Yeah. She's Peggy's niece. Lived across the hall from me for months in D.C. and I didn't even know."

"... She still around?" Bucky asked, a hint of caution in his voice. "Peggy?"

Steve clenched his jaw, closing his eyes again. "She's gone. Funeral was the day of the bombing in Vienna."

"... Shit," Bucky muttered, head turning to give Steve an apologetic, understanding look. "I'm sorry."

Steve nodded, meeting the other man's eyes. "She lived a good, long life. Had a family and everything. Made a huge difference in the world. I got to have her back for a few years, which was more than I thought I'd get."

Bucky nodded, looking away. "I'm glad you had her. And your friends."

Steve frowned, those words striking a very raw nerve that they hadn't been meant to hit. He didn't look away from Bucky as the dull ache in his heart returned as a result of thinking about how very alone Bucky had been all along.

Steve had woken up in a new century and a new world feeling as alone as a person could, but he hadn't truly been alone. He'd had people looking out for him - Fury, Coulson, and later Nat, Sam, Tony, and Peggy too during lucid moments - but Bucky... he hadn't had anyone. He had broken his conditioning and started running as soon as he could, holing himself up in Romania and getting by on his own, without another soul to talk to.

But he had survived. He'd survived so much, and to still be even half the man that he once was... it was incredible. Steve was sure that he'd always feel like that skinny, sickly kid next to the bigger, stronger, tougher Bucky, even now when technically he had the physical edge over him. Slightly, anyway.

Just as Steve found the words to say - mostly apologies that he wasn't there for him, didn't go back and find him after he fell, crashed into the ice and was useless for 70 years while Hydra made Bucky an unstoppable weapon - he heard a soft snoring sound come from across the bed. He was truly asleep now, lips parted and chest rising and falling peacefully, and Steve let out a breath and turned back to staring at the ceiling.

He'd tell them all those things later. He would apologize until Bucky forgave him, though he knew Bucky didn't blame him for any of it.

He drifted off himself soon after, succumbing to his exhaustion at last. They managed to sleep peacefully side by side for five hours before one of them woke up screaming, which was really far longer than either one of them had dared to hope for.

* * *

 

Steve jolted up in a panicked daze at the sound of agonized, pained, tortured screaming. He looked to his left and found Bucky lying on his front, gripping his pillow tight in his hand and writhing miserably in the sheets, face twisted in what looked like horrific pain. The sounds coming from his throat sounded hideously like the scream that he'd let out as he had fallen all those years ago - sound that had consistently haunted Steve ever since he had heard it - and he reached out for his friend without a second thought.

Saying his name quietly, making sure not to shout or otherwise startle him and make the situation even worse, Steve tried to gently shake Bucky awake. It didn't work, however, and Bucky kept shouting and making horrible sounds as Steve dragged him to sit up, supporting his weight and trying to force him to wake up.

But when Bucky finally opened his eyes, Steve realized what was truly going on. His blue eyes were glassy and unfocused, mouth still babbling and body mostly limp, and suddenly it felt like Brooklyn in '33 again. That was when Bucky had started having what people now called night terrors, and seeing him in the throes of one now was even more horrifying than when they'd been teenagers and Steve had thought that his friend was dying rather than just experiencing a disturbing sleep occurrence that he wouldn't remember the next day.

This was different than back then. Bucky screaming things like no and please and Russian words Steve didn't understand, all while his eyes were open and fixed on Steve even though he couldn't see him. It made Steve nauseous and anxious, and the fact that Bucky's mother wasn't around to help pull him back to reality made things all the worse. She used to come in and gently pull her son into her arms and just let him slowly come back to her, always whispering words of comfort to him and doing her best to make sure that he knew he wasn't alone.

Steve decided to do the best imitation of her that he could, mainly because it was the only thing he could think to do at all. He pulled Bucky into his arms and sat back against the flimsy headboard behind them, settling them both down and doing everything he remembered Bucky's mother doing. He ran slightly shaky fingers through Bucky's cold-sweat dampened hair, tried to pull him back to reality with his voice, held him tight and did his best to wait for it all to end.

It seemed to go on and on, Steve growing more and more on edge and desperate the longer it dragged on, but it didn't last forever. Eventually Bucky grew quiet, screams turning to low whimpers before disappearing altogether, and the tension left his body along with them. His breaths grew even and his quiet, almost inaudible snores returned, and he sunk back into a peaceful sleep with his fist gripping Steve's shirt, face pressed to his chest and tears drying on his cheeks, and his body curled into his side.

Steve left out a deep sigh of relief, then began to wonder what to do about his current predicament. If he tried to move Bucky out of his arms and back to his own side of the bed, he might wake him up and that was unacceptable after what they'd both just been through. Before he could make a decision one way or the other, however, he was asleep again himself, and the point became moot.

They slept for another hour like that, neither of them moving an inch. The morning was swiftly approaching but it was still dark outside, everything silent except for the sounds of their breathing and the occasional cricket chirping outside the bolted-shut windows.

What eventually brought Steve out of his slumber and back into reality was something very faint and pleasant-feeling. His eyes fluttered open slowly and he vaguely registered the sensation of tingles shooting down his spine, but it took him a bit to determine the cause of it. In a another moment, he realized why it was happening.

Bucky had shifted a little bit in their sleep. Now his hand was laying open on Steve's chest, no longer curled into a tense fist, and he'd tipped his head back at some point as well, causing his breath to wash over the hollow of Steve's throat with every exhale. _That's_ what was causing the involuntary shivers.

That was fine, Steve thought. No big deal. His arm holding Bucky close was dead, however, so it was time to move him back to his own side of the bed. Steve drew a breath and then prepared to move, but he made the mistake of moving his left leg - the one that was closest to Bucky and pressed more firmly against him than he realized - and he accidentally brushed against _something_ that was semi-hard and _not_ what he expected.

But if it had just been that, he still would have been okay. Sure, it was a little awkward but they were both men and it wasn't as if anything could be done about it. But as it happened, that tiny little movement of Steve's leg also happened to make Bucky exhale in a way that was almost a breathless moan, and that was what made Steve freeze and panic a little bit inside.

Bucky didn't freeze, however. Still quite asleep, he seemed to have liked what he'd felt and he tried to chase after it, a tiny, barely-there rock of his hips making Steve's panic deepen and his face all but explode in a deep blush.

_Oh God_. A night terror he could sort of handle, but this... this was... well, it was different and certainly unprecedented. All those nights spent as kids and then teenagers and young adults in cramped spaces and this had never happened. But then again, Bucky had never been nearly as lonely and touch-starved as he had to have been now, even while unconscious.

And Bucky didn't stop at one time, either. Instead he exhaled a little more raggedly and did it again, and Steve swallowed hard and mentally flailed trying to figure out what to do. He could just lay there and do nothing, and he wouldn't have minded doing that - really, he wouldn't have - but that wouldn't be fair to Bucky because he never would have done this had he been aware of himself, Steve knew that much. And besides, Steve would have wanted to be woken up if he was the one mindlessly grinding against the hip of a friend that he was sleeping next to.

He made up his mind and opened his mouth, prepared to say his friend's name and (hopefully) wake him up. But just before he could get the word out, Bucky burrowed in a little closer, seeming to instinctively seek out more warmth and more skin, and he found it and pressed his face into the side of Steve's neck.

Steve slowly closed his eyes and sighed silently. The longer he waited the more difficult this was becoming, but he couldn't seem to get a word out and he definitely wasn't risking moving again. Bucky was breathing hotly against him, still rolling his hips too, and then he fully and legitimately _moaned_ and something finally snapped in Steve at the same moment that a wave of heat unexpectedly crashed through his body.

"Bucky," he suddenly all but gasped, giving the other man a rattle that was harsher than intended. " _Buck_. Wake up."

And he did. Bucky woke up with a startled jolt and, being essentially draped on Steve already, ended up rolling fully on top of him in a mindlessly protective, cautious way and asking in a dazed and still half-asleep rush, "What? What's happening?"

... Well, this wasn't turning out the way that Steve had intended at all.

They were extremely close, closer than Steve had been to another human being in... well... possibly his entire life. Not only that, but Bucky was looking around the room for danger and thus jostling them both the slightest bit, which wouldn't have been a problem had Bucky not been very hard and pressing down Steve's own growing _problem_. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but it had and Bucky was going to figure that out as soon as he realized they weren't in danger.

"Nothing," Steve choked out. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine, I just... you were..." He blushed brightly, quite visible even in the darkness of the room, and Bucky stared at him in confusion until Steve involuntarily shifted a little and the resulting friction made Bucky's mouth drop open.

Now it was Bucky's turn to blush and recoil under a massive wave of embarrassment. " _Shit, fuck_ ," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to wriggle away some. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Steve managed, ears burning and stomach performing odd acrobatic feats that he wasn't used to.

"No, it's fucking not," Bucky grumbled, maneuvering off of him with his right arm as best as he could. "I'm sorry. _Shit_. I -"

"It's okay," Steve repeated, a little more firmly this time, and when Bucky stopped trying to get away and looked at Steve like he was crazy, it took entirely too long for Steve to realize that Bucky had stopped because _Steve_ had stopped him.

"... It's okay," Steve repeated a little more softly, trying to convince himself more than Bucky at that point. Bucky continued to stare at him like he was nuts, at least until he glanced down between them and seemed to suddenly notice that he wasn't the only one currently suffering. He looked back up at Steve in disbelief, as if he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming or not, and Steve had no idea what to do or say.

They stayed frozen like that, breathing but not moving and neither saying a word until Steve blurted out the first string of words that his brain managed to piece together. "You can... if you want, you could..."

Bucky's eyes widened fractionally. "I can what?"

Steve swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. "Nat... Natasha says that... um... that it's common these days for friends to... um... she offered one time but I turned her down, and -"

Bucky squinted, thoroughly lost. "What?"

"I don't know," Steve finally confessed, throwing his head back in frustration. "I'm just trying to help you however I can."

Bucky's confusion seemed to grow exponentially, which wasn't what Steve had expected. He'd expected shock or a sudden burst of laughter, but instead Bucky stared into the distance for a moment and then asked, "Is that something that you... that we used to do?"

Steve shook his head immediately. "No, never. No."

"Then why -"

"I don't know," Steve said again, trying to shrug and ending up grinding against Bucky slightly instead, which made them both suck in a sharp breath of air and Steve cringe to keep from doing it again. "Just forget I said anything."

But Bucky didn't forget. Instead he was quiet for a few seconds and then murmured, "Jesus, Steve, you're as red as your shield." When Steve did nothing but clench his jaw and continue looking at anything but Bucky, he then asked, "Do... do you want to...?"

Insides jolting and twisting at the question, Steve looked up at him and immediately shook his head. "No." He paused. "I don't know." Then his blush very possibly grew to cover his entire body as he admitted, "I've still never... not even once. With anybody."

And that was the true shocker, in Bucky's eyes. More than three years out of the ice and Steve, _Captain America_ , was still a virgin. Any other man in existence would have used his literally perfect physique to seduce the entire world and make up for lost time, but Steve wasn't like that. He never had been and he never would be. He was still the same Steve he'd always been, still the most familiar thing in Bucky's life - maybe even the _only_ familiar thing - and he had just embarrassed himself beyond belief by offering to help Bucky with a problem that they both apparently shared.

Bucky blinked a few times, searching Steve's features even though he was squirming under the scrutiny, finally asking, "You'd want to?"

Steve paused. "... Would you?"

Leaning all of his weight on his right arm, barely holding him up above Steve, Bucky dropped his eyes and muttered, "It's been so fucking long, Steve. Half the time I can't even..." He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Can't even remember what it's like."

Steve then managed to grin and joke, "Me either." Bucky grinned back at him, albeit tight and strained, but it was a small smile nonetheless. Then he managed to add before he lost his nerve, "Offer stands."

The grin slowly fell off of Bucky's face. Steve watched in concern, insides still twisting and turning, and then Bucky glanced down again and deliberately and fully consciously rolled his hips - _slowly_ \- and watched Steve's mouth fall open and an almost inaudible gasp leave his lips.

"You sure?" Bucky asked, lowering himself down a little more, letting himself enjoy the press of another body to his, even if it wasn't as soft or small as the ones that littered his memories. But it wasn't just a warm body either, not in the slightest. This was someone he trusted with his life - possibly the only person in the whole world that he could trust, and certainly the only one that he would even consider being vulnerable and intimate with, even if he probably never would have thought of it himself. He couldn't break Steve, and Steve wouldn't be repulsed by him or who he was, or what had been done to him.

He kept moving, keeping it light and experimental and cautious, and even that was enough to make Steve's eyes roll shut as he groaned breathlessly, "Yeah."

"Positive?" Bucky asked, though he still didn't let up. "Don't wanna fuck up anything with us. I can't. You're all I've got."

Steve opened his eyes upon hearing those incredibly honest words, emotions getting stuck in his throat and pushing down the words he was trying to get out. That was when he noticed Bucky's arm starting to tremble as it supported his considerable weight, and he didn't think twice about his next course of action. He brought up his arms that had been lying useless at his aides the whole time and rolled them over, putting Bucky on his back and saving him from having to exert himself. He was still recovering from a horrible ordeal, after all, and he didn't need to do any of the work, super soldier or not.

Bucky looked up at him in a sudden daze, the change in position catching him off guard. Steve looked down at him, still a little struck that the long-haired, mildly scruffy man in front of him was the very same one who used to never be seen in public with a hair out of place. "I'm positive," he replied at last, the low timbre of his own voice surprising him. "Don't worry. I mean... it kinda makes sense, doesn't it?"

Bucky shook his head. "No. Not for you. You're not like me. You're... you're you and you can have anyone you want."

"... Hasn't really worked out so well for me," Steve said, his breath hitching when Bucky reached down and started tugging down Steve's pants first, then his own. The first fleeting contact of skin on skin made Steve hold his breath and force himself to calm down, body erupting with heat already and shocking him at how fast and consuming it was.

Bucky's hand cautiously moving to Steve's back over his shirt, hesitantly as if he feared it was unwanted, he then said, "Don't tell me you still don't know how to talk to a woman."

"Not really, no," Steve shrugged, shifting his hips and then rolling them down, the simple, light contact making them both gasp quietly like the deprived men that they were. Bucky's hand slid to the back of Steve's neck and pulled him closer, making their foreheads touch, and then Steve added breathlessly, "Guess it's a good thing you're not one of those."

"Shut up," Bucky murmured back with clear affection in his tone, and Steve grinned back at him for a moment until Bucky started pushing up against his every thrust and making everything feel that much better. He closed his eyes and didn't realize how close their lips were getting to one another until he felt the faintest, most cautious brush of a kiss that he'd ever experienced, hardly enough to even be called a kiss.

He opened his eyes after, finding Bucky looking back at him and feeling his fingers gently resting on the back of his head, within his short blonde hair. Just a few seconds passed before Steve closed his eyes again and leaned in, this time for a real kiss that made them both lose their breath.

For all the kisses that Steve had enjoyed in his life - and there had been one or two clear standouts - he'd never had one quite like this before. It was heated and desperate from the start, Bucky seizing the contact and savoring it with every fiber of his being, no restraint between the the two of them. Bucky moaned into his mouth and did things with his tongue that made Steve's head spin and bring back memories that he'd buried a long time ago.

And Steve wasn't the only one. When they broke apart, Bucky opened his eyes slowly and furrowed his brows. "We've done that before," he realized, and Steve reddened and briefly let his rhythm falter.

"... You said it didn't count," Steve muttered, smiling a little. "We were 16 and we got into your mom's liquor cabinet, first time you got me drunk. You started talking about girls and you said I needed to learn how to kiss and..."

"... And I taught you," Bucky grinned a bit devilishly.

"Yeah, you did," Steve grinned back, though his face was still aflame.

Bucky's fingers tightened in his hair again and pulled him back down, stealing another kiss before noting, "You still taste the same."

"So do you," Steve replied, and Bucky captured his lips again and shut him back up. Steve melted into the kiss, and from there, everything else came so naturally it was a wonder that it truly was the first time they'd ever done this before.

It was all quiet groans and the sound of skin sliding against skin, kiss-swollen lips meeting again and again and taking what they could while they could, no questions or second guessing. Their mutual pleasure grew slowly, as any more direct touching than what Steve allowed would have ended things too fast, and it was by the furthest that Steve had ever gone with someone else. By contrast, it was probably one of the most innocent sexual encounters that Bucky had ever had, but his quiet moans and the heat in his eyes and the faint tremble in his body gave away how much he was savoring every last bit of it.

Steve just wanted to make him feel better for a little while. He'd been through so much pain, so much loss, so much, and he deserved so much more than Steve could ever give him. But he could give him this, a few long, blissful minutes of relief and a human connection that they had both lacked for far too long.

" _Steve_ ," Bucky groaned against Steve's mouth, hand now under the back of his shirt and moving restlessly, short nails biting into the skin between his shoulder blades as he grew more desperate. " _God_."

"It's okay," Steve told him somewhat mindlessly, words leaving his mouth on autopilot as he dropped his face against Bucky's neck. "It's all right. I'm here, I've got you."

Bucky moaned as Steve rained kisses down his neck, eyes closed and nearing the breaking point. "I'm gonna... _fuck_ , Steve, I'm..."

"Go on," Steve murmured, bringing his lips back to Bucky's and tangling his hand in his hair, holding him close. "I've got you."

Bucky clutched him harder, body tensing and moving erratically until it all came to a head and his lips parted and eyes rolled shut, back arching and pleasure wracking through him at last. Steve watched him in awe, having never seen someone come apart like that with his own two eyes - in person, anyway - and it was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful, and Steve followed him over the edge before Bucky had even caught his breath.

For how long they had gone without anything like it and how overwhelmingly sweet it had been to finally feel another's person's touch, they took their time in coming back down to earth. Steve kept most of his weight off of Bucky, ever mindful of his injuries and bruises, and after he could tell that Bucky's breathing had calmed, Steve lifted up his head and chanced a look at his friend.

Bucky eyes were shut, bliss still etched on his face, and it made a much prettier sight than pain did. Steve took a mental snapshot, committing it to memory so that if he had the guts to later, he could draw it. Then, once he'd had his fill, he leaned down and brushed a tiny kiss over Bucky's jaw, and Bucky stirred and winced a little.

"... You made a mess."

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky when he opened his own and flashed him a sated grin. "I did?" Steve asked, pulling off of Bucky and taking off his too-small t-shirt. "Think you've got at least half the blame for that, pal."

Bucky made a noncommittal noise, letting Steve use the shirt to clean them both off passably well. They both needed to hit the shower, really, for more than one reason, but neither of them had any will to leave the bed any time soon. They were exhausted all over again, this time in a mostly pleasant way, and they could steal a few more hours of sleep before they had to get up and get moving.

Tossing the shirt carelessly on the floor, Steve then collapsed back down to the bed. He felt lighter now, looser and far more relaxed, and judging by the way that Bucky was laying there with his shirt half up his chest and his pants still stuck somewhere mid-thigh, seemingly without a care in the world.

Outside the windows, day was breaking and the sun was making its slow ascent in the east. The world was still spinning and countless people within it - officials, law enforcement, intelligence agents - were strategizing on how best to apprehend the two men currently curled up in bed together half-asleep. They were the two most wanted men in the world now, two soldiers who had both given their lives in service for their country and yet were still breathing and now on the run from a generation of folks who wouldn't even have existed had it not been for the sacrifices of men like Steve and Bucky.

But that was the world they lived in, and they'd deal with it and find their way through it. Steve was sure of that. And when Bucky turned towards him with sleepy, sweet eyes and shot him an amused, almost ironic grin, Steve couldn't help but laugh a little and shake his head. What a strange, unexpected night.

"Let me guess," Steve said, throwing the old, thin blanket over both of them, "just practice, right? Doesn't count?"

Bucky shook his head tiredly, still giving him that little grin. "No. That definitely counted."

"I'll be sure to update my resume," Steve remarked dryly, and Bucky shook his head and closed his eyes,

Steve did the same, lying on his back again and letting the lure of sleep pull him back under. He was halfway there when he felt the bed shift next to him, and before he could even open his eyes, there were lips on his giving him a sweet, grateful kiss.

The kiss catching him by surprise, Steve opened his eyes after Bucky drew away and muttered, "Thank you."

Steve smiled and nodded. "You don't have to thank me. I wanted to... uh..." he trailed off, having not thought that particular sentence through very well.

Bucky grinned, amused, and then dropped down next to Steve on his side, facing him. "Yeah. I could tell you wanted to."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Bucky did in fact fall silent, and so did Steve. As light began to slowly pour into the house and bring the new day around, both men fell back asleep and stayed asleep until they damn well pleased, which was later than either one of them had slept in ages.

Soon enough they'd have to get up and go, get back on the run and figure out where they were going to go and what they were going to do. Nothing about any of the potential paths before them were simple or pleasant, but at least they weren't alone. They'd face what came their way together, like they'd always used to, and just knowing that helped them to sleep a little better than they ever would have on their own.

They were, quite simply, irreplaceable in each other's lives. And whatever that did or didn't mean for the future, they didn't have to worry about it then. For at least that night and that following morning, they were safe and they were together. And that alone was more than either one of them thought they deserved.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Bucky goes back under, he and Steve finally address several rather large and unwanted elephants in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a very much belated follow-up to the first part, in case anyone wanted it :)

 

Wakanda really was lovely this time of year. Or at least it seemed that way from the little cabin Steve was currently tucked away in on a picturesque mountainside, as the sun set on another blissfully warm day.   
  
The cabin had been, according to the blessedly generous T'Challa, used by the royal family for generations for private getaways and was as secure as the palace itself. Members of the royal guard were nearby at all times but out of sight, protecting the cabin's two fugitive inhabitants by order of the King himself. On the very, very slim chance that somebody would come looking for them, they'd be dead or apprehended before they even got a glimpse of the cabin.   
  
Steve had been to a lot of places in his lifetime, but he'd never seen anything quite like Wakanda. Pictures and books could never do it justice or even partially capture the natural rich beauty that now laid just outside his window. It was a balm to him, relaxing and tranquil as he finished healing from the mess in Siberia. Physically, the only evidence he bore now was a slew of mostly healed cuts and scrapes, but mentally he was entirely another story.   
  
Without his shield and without his team, Steve was as lost as he had ever been and yet had gained more clarity through the chaos than he ever would have expected. He had given up everything in Siberia, even his very identity as the hero that the world had known for so long, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret a single action that he'd taken. Of all the things in his life that had left him confused and unsure of his purpose and of what the hell he was doing, giving all of it up for his best friend was the one thing that he knew he'd never question.   
  
Where he went from here, however, was a question he didn't know how to answer. His only source of comfort was not being quite as alone as he'd once been, and having a huge piece of his old life back within his grasp.   
  
Stirring him from his sunset-gazing thoughts was the sound of the bathroom door opening and clicking shut behind him. He turned his head and glanced at Bucky emerging wet-headed and dressed following a shower, prompting him to ask, "Feel better?"  
  
Bucky glanced up and pushed his damp hair behind his ears, one side at a time with his right hand, muttering, "I could spend all day in there."  
  
"You almost did, pal," Steve pointed out, gesturing to the window. "Sun's down and everything."  
  
"Good thing we ain't got a bedtime anymore," Bucky half-grinned before heading out to the cozy little living room beyond the bedroom they kinda-sorta shared.   
  
Steve sighed and made to follow him. They'd been here for the better part of a week, and most of the time Steve slept on the bedroom floor while Bucky took the bed. It was mainly due to the fact that the bed, while not exactly small, wasn't quite equipped to handle two full-sized super soldiers, at least not without their limbs uncomfortably overlapping for a large portion of the night. But neither of them wanted to sleep in different rooms - though they hadn't admitted it in words - so they didn't question the arrangement. They also hadn't mentioned once what had happened between them in the safe house in Russia, and really, that was fine with Steve. No need to talk and make it awkward when it wasn't. Whatever had happened, it  _happened_  and that seemed to be the end of it.   
  
Steve wasn't sure how long they were going to be there. He needed to rescue his team from their watery prison at the Raft, but aside from that... neither he nor Bucky had anywhere to go or really anything to do. Bucky was still a highly wanted fugitive and now Steve was too, but they couldn't stay camped out in T'Challa's backyard forever. But where could they go? Unless the mess with the Accords could ever be straightened out - along with a long list of other factors - Bucky could never show his face again, and Steve wasn't going to go anywhere he couldn't follow. To the end of the line covered a hell of a lot of ground, and Steve didn't intend on skimping on a single inch.   
  
But instead of mentioning even a word of these thoughts, Steve instead followed Bucky to the extremely comfortable couch and plopped down next to him, accepting a bottle of Wakandan-brewed beer that Bucky offered and then asking, "So, movie?"  
  
"Sure," Bucky shrugged, making himself comfortable against the cushions. "You pick."  
  
The cabin came equipped with a state of the art entertainment center with the most eclectic and international collection of movies that Steve had ever seen. By now pretty familiar with its contents, Steve asked, "Wanna give  _Star Wars_  a try?"  
  
"Seen 'em," Bucky said, knocking back his own drink.   
  
Steve furrowed his brows. He had? "You have?" When Bucky nodded casually in reply, Steve then asked, "When?"  
  
"I spent two years in Romania by myself, Steve," Bucky replied, mildly amused. "I had a lot of time on my hands."  
  
"... Fair enough," Steve said, brows still furrowed. He paused and then asked, "You know, I've been curious... how did you... get by? Did you have a job, or..."  
  
Bucky lowered his drink and shrugged. "Odd jobs, mostly. I fixed stuff around the building for the owner, s'why they let me stay there. Whatever I had leftover I used for food, clothes."  
  
"And movies?" Steve grinned.   
  
"Like I said," Bucky replied, "I had a lot of time on my hands."  
  
Steve nodded and looked away, a slight smile on his face. "After I came out of the ice, I made a list of movies and music, TV shows, you name it, that everyone said I needed to catch up on. Still haven't gotten through the whole list yet."  
  
Bucky nodded. A moment of brief silence passed before he noted, "The Internet's... crazy."  
  
"Tell me about it," Steve chuckled. "I've got stories. When I worked at SHIELD, everyone got a kick out of sending me links to stuff to try to get a rise out of me. I've... seen things."  
  
"I bet," Bucky said. "I'm still trying to get used to it all. So different from when we were kids."  
  
"Yes it is," Steve agreed with a light sigh. After another brief pause, he glanced at Bucky and asked, "So what else did you do, aside from all of that?"  
  
"... Not a lot, honestly," Bucky admitted. "Just... tried to keep my head down, stay away from crowds. Read a lot of books from the library. Tried to stay busy, I guess."  
  
"Ever meet any cute Romanian girls?" Steve asked with a grin.   
  
"Hell no," Bucky chuckled, looking at Steve like he was crazy. "I tried to look scary and homeless on purpose, to keep people away. It worked."  
  
"You know, a lot of girls these days like that kind of thing," Steve pointed out. "The long hair and the... scruffy... thing." At Bucky's puzzled expression, he shrugged. "That's what I've been told, anyway."  
  
"Who told you that?"  
  
"Nat, mostly," Steve replied. "She spent the better part of a year trying to convince me to grow a beard."  
  
"You with a beard," Bucky mused, furrowing his brows and considering that apparently foreign concept. "Weird. But you could probably pull it off."  
  
"Maybe, but I can just hear my mom having a heart attack in her grave," Steve shook his head. "Besides, it wouldn't look right with the helmet." He paused, realizing what he'd just said. "Not that I have to worry about that anymore."  
  
And just like that, they'd nearly broached something Steve had worked hard to avoid for the last week - serious discussions about what was going on. He'd managed to tiptoe around everything so well, even when the sight of Bucky's missing left arm made his blood boil in rage against Tony or when nightmares would wake one or both of them up in the dead of night. It was so much easier to just pretend that all of that was somehow behind them and that they didn't have to address any of it, and that they could be the men that they had once been when everything had been simple and made sense.   
  
Never mind that he knew full well how much they'd both changed and how things would never be that simple again. Bucky surely knew that as well. But Steve just didn't want to think about that just yet. He wanted to enjoy having his best friend back and taking it easy for a little while, while they were both safe and spared of chaos for a time. Was that too much to ask for?   
  
"Steve?"  
  
He looked up to find Bucky eyeing him a bit unsurely, as if what he was about to say wasn't going to be easy. He hesitated and then, as if changing his mind, Bucky shrugged and asked, "Gonna pick a movie?"   
  
"Oh. Yeah," Steve said, shaking off the last few minutes and getting up from the couch. Resolving to leave those darker thoughts behind for then, he headed for the enormous movie collection and ended up coming across a Star Wars installment that Bucky had not yet seen. After putting  _The Force Awakens_  into the Blu-Ray player, Steve took his place back on the couch and, for the next hour and a half, continued to ignore the elephant in the room.   
  
What he didn't know was that Bucky was ignoring an elephant of his very own, and a damn hefty one at that.   
  
Throughout the film, they downed a few more beers with zero effect and chatted about the film and how it held up against its legendary predecessors. Steve was skeptical at first, but Bucky liked it from the start and seemed especially fond of Rey, the new series lead. They both managed to be shocked and in denial of Han Solo's final scene in the film, and all in all, the movie did a fantastic job of distracting them both which was, after all, what Steve had been hoping for to begin with. Once it was over, they chatted about it while the credits rolled for a full five minutes, finishing off the last of their drinks and, once the movie returned to the main menu, falling silent.   
  
Steve glanced at the time, displayed digitally underneath the TV, and then he turned off the Blu-Ray player and said, "Well. It's getting pretty late now. Hungry?"  
  
Bucky shook his head. They'd eaten dinner earlier - a particularly delicious concoction of something pre-prepared that they'd found in the freezer - but Bucky not being hungry was out of character. He had an appetite to match Steve's and sometimes even surpass it, so Steve paused and asked, "Really?"  
  
Bucky shook his head again and leaned forward, setting his empty bottle down and shoving his hair behind his ears, more nervously than anything. Now Steve could tell that something was bothering him, especially as Bucky's brow furrowed some and he let his hand hang between his knees, starting to fidget just a little bit with his fingers.   
  
"Everything okay?" Steve asked, the pinch in his features giving away the fact that he knew full well that everything wasn't. Waiting in suspense for a few long seconds, his brain ran the gamut of everything that could possibly be to blame for Bucky's clear discomfort and hesitance to speak, but the true reason was one that he never would have anticipated.   
  
"Yeah, yeah," Bucky assured him eventually, managing to look his way. "Just... there's something I haven't told you. Keep putting it off and now it's kinda the last minute and... yeah."  
  
Now Steve was even more confused - and alarmed - than before. "What's going on?"  
  
Bucky sighed and began to explain. "Not long after we got here I talked to T'Challa, and... I've had a lot of time to think. I've had nothing but time to think. He says he's confident they'll find a way to get this... shit out of my head, but nobody knows how long it might be. Could be a year or more for all I know. And I don't wanna live like that, Steve. Waking up everyday and knowing I'm just a handful of words away from killing innocent people. I don't wanna do that. I can't do that."  
  
"... What are you saying?" Steve asked, heart pounding in his ears and feeling dangerously close to panicking, like the next words out of Bucky's mouth would surely set him off along a downward spiral of God only _knew_ what.   
  
Bucky hesitated before looking Steve in the eye and finally letting the truth slip out. "I'm going back under." He paused, swallowing. "Tomorrow."  
  
To say that Steve went into a very real state of shock thanks to those words was putting it very mildly. His eyes widened and his airway constricted, memories of past asthma attacks flooding his brain like muscle memory and making him feel even more panic on top of what was already instantly setting in. His ears felt hot and he suddenly felt like he might also be sick, all of these things converging on him without mercy and forcing him to get up without a word and rush towards the nearest window.   
  
He threw the window open and sucked in a huge breath of warm, humid night air, reminding himself that he could breathe and that he wasn't relapsing, wasn't sick, wasn't dying. It was all in his head, a visceral mental and physical reaction to learning that he'd be losing his best friend all over again just the next day.   
  
He dropped his head and tried to relax his breathing, he really did, but he just couldn't. He started shaking beyond his control, and he realized with no small amount of alarm that it was because he was about to start crying.   
  
"Steve?" Bucky asked timidly from behind, eyes wide with concern. " _Steve_..."  
  
Steve shook his head, and for the first time in a very long time, he found that he simply wasn't able to lie and say that he was fine or to just shake it off and put on a brave face. And it wasn't just because of Bucky's news - it was everything. All of his confusion and depression since he'd come out of the ice, his lack of direction and weakening faith in what he was fighting for. It was Peggy -  _God, Peggy_. She really _was_ gone, and she was never coming back. He'd never see her again. His first love, the first woman to look at him and see a man worth loving rather than a sickly burden on society, gone. It was Tony, whom Steve had watched in a sickening panic as he tried to kill Bucky with his bare hands. Tony, who Steve had always had a volatile relationship with but needed just the same as he needed his whole team. But his team was gone now, in prison or injured or off the grid, like Nat, and Captain America was gone too. Everything was gone, everything was lost, everything and everyone  _except_  Bucky.   
  
But now he was leaving him too. And  _dammit_  Steve just didn't have it in him anymore to be strong. His strength was gone, and in those few terrible moments he might as well have been his old 90-pound wheezing self again.   
  
"You can't," Steve muttered, ashamed to be crying as he was and refusing to turn around and let Bucky see just how pathetic he was. It was bad enough that he could hear it. His voice broken and defeated, he added, "I  _just_  got you back."  
  
Bucky's own face fell, Steve's reaction both horrifying him and making him feel so horridly guilty that he would have changed his mind on the spot if only he  _could_. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out towards Steve's shoulder, but the minute he made contact Steve recoiled.   
  
"I looked for you," Steve said, now irrationally angry and turning around, no longer caring to hide his tears. "I looked for you for  _two years._  I thought of hardly anything else, I barely slept, I wondered if you were even  _alive_  -"  
  
"I know," Bucky interrupted, "and I'm sorry. But -"  
  
"Then I finally find you, and you're not - you're _you_ ," Steve said a little desperately, a fresh and even more embarrassing wave of tears making their presence known. "You remember and you're  _good_  and getting you back is the one thing keeping me together right now. You can't go back under, Buck. It could be years. It could be - it's not even safe! What if you don't wake up this time? What if -"  
  
"Steve,  _fuck_ ," Bucky groaned, finally just stepping forward and pulling Steve into the biggest and tightest one-armed hug that he could manage. Steve resisted for all of two seconds before falling limp and clinging to him like a lifeline, all while Bucky told him quietly, "I'm gonna wake up. And I'm not leaving. I'm coming back."  
  
But that was no consolation for Steve, who felt as if he was looking at another eternity alone, without the one person who knew him better than anyone and had known him all his life, literally the only person who could truly understand all that he had been through in his weird, too-long but barely 30-year long life. Crying on Bucky's shoulder now and wishing that he wasn't, Steve muttered, " _But I just got you back_."  
  
Bucky winced and hugged him tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know. But I've gotta do this. S'my choice, Steve."  
  
And that, Steve realized even through all the emotions running wild through his head, was the crux of the matter. For 70 years, Bucky hadn't had a choice in anything from the cut of his hair to whom he was sent to kill in the name of evil. Now he had a choice, and he was choosing not to risk the life of any more innocent people and sacrificing potentially years of his own life to ensure that he didn't hurt anyone else. And who was Steve to argue with that?   
  
He couldn't. But at the same time, he was sick of being selfless. He just wanted, for once in his life, one thing of his own that he got to keep and treasure without the world or time or war taking it away. He'd lost his family, lost his old life, lost Peggy, lost everything over and over again, and somehow now he had to learn to give up someone he'd swore to himself that he'd never lose again.   
  
"It's not fair," he said, feeling a bit like a child throwing a tantrum, but he was well past the point of caring.   
  
"I know," Bucky told him. "Trust me, I know. But it's the best thing."  
  
Not for Steve. Not by a longshot. Still, Steve nodded and slipped out of the hug, keeping his eyes cast down even as Bucky tried to look at him and search his saddened features. Steve stepped away, wiping at his face and walking mindlessly out of the living room. He ended up in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, cleaning his face and splashing water on it, trying to pull himself together. The tears had finally stopped, but now when he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he felt more unsure than ever as to just who was looking back at him.   
  
He wasn't stupid. He knew why all of this was suddenly crashing down on him now. It was because he had been neglecting himself for so long, getting up and going and going and pushing down the uncertainty and anxiety that seemed only to grow more with each passing year, and now his stubborn ignoring of it all had inevitably backfired at likely the worst moment possible. There was so much he'd never fully processed, so much he'd never worked through in a healthy, effective way, and now he was left to wade through the consequences alone.   
  
 _Alone_.   
  
He was so completely and utterly sick of being alone.   
  
After cleaning himself up as best as he could, he left the bathroom and walked into the bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently waiting for him. Steve briefly glanced at him before looking away and taking a seat next to him, keeping his eyes forward because looking at Bucky was particularly difficult at the moment.   
  
"Sorry I lost it back there," Steve muttered, sniffling still and staring at his hands.   
  
"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Bucky replied softly, watching Steve carefully. "I just... didn't wanna ruin the whole week. It's been fun. Knew as soon as I said it everything would change."  
  
Steve let out a breath and finally met the other man's gaze. "You don't have to do this. I can protect you. The chances of someone finding that book and actually getting to you -"  
  
"It happened before and it can happen again," Bucky interrupted gently.   
  
"But that was different," Steve insisted. "You're safe now. And I'm not gonna let anyone get to you."  
  
"Steve," Bucky said with a humorless chuckle, "you're stuck in a cabin with the world's most wanted killer. You can't go anywhere, can't do anything. Not with me. And I don't want you to stop living for my sake."  
  
"But I wasn't -" Steve clamped his mouth shut before the truth could tumble out.  _But I wasn't living anyway_ , he nearly said, and he wasn't ready to talk that level of truth just yet. Instead he sighed and said, "I'm wanted, too. We're in the same boat."  
  
"Not really," Bucky shook his head. "Whatever laws you broke... once the shit hits the fan again, nobody's gonna care about what you did. They'll just want you to save the world again. They'll forgive you in a heartbeat and you know it. Most of the world's probably on your side anyway. It's not like that for me."  
  
"I know," Steve said softly. "But you shouldn't give up."  
  
"I'm not," Bucky replied. "When I'm not a danger anymore... then I'll deal with everything."  
  
His mind was well and made up, it was clear. Steve couldn't persuade him. Couldn't do a damn thing. Useless as always.   
  
" _Steve_."  
  
He looked up to find Bucky looking at him as if he could see straight through him. He didn't like it, but he didn't have the energy to try to put on a brave face or conceal what he was feeling.   
  
Something unbelievably sad passed through Bucky's eyes as he noted, "You've changed."  
  
Steve furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You're..." Bucky paused and searched for the right words. Finally he found one. "You seem... hollow."  
  
Steve's features grew even more distressed. But the word described him so well that it nearly made him cry all over again.   
  
"It's almost like all the life's gone out of you," Bucky added. "You're still you, but..."  
  
"I know," Steve muttered, turning away. "I just... coming out of the ice, losing everything and everyone I knew... I just... started working and never stopped. It's all I've got. I don't know how to live without a war. I don't know how to go home."  
  
"... But you do have more than that," Bucky said. "You have your friends."  
  
"And I love them," Steve nodded. "But look where I got them."  
  
"... You mean where I got them," Bucky muttered, his turn now to look away.   
  
Steve sighed. What a mess of self-hating idiots they both were. "No. It was me. They'd all say the same."  
  
"Either way," Bucky shrugged. "Everyone would have been better off if I'd just gone down with the helicarriers."  
  
Steve turned back to him and immediately replied, "I wouldn't."  
  
"Sure about that?" Bucky smiled humorlessly. "You wouldn't be sitting here crying and I wouldn't feel like the world's most heartless bastard, like I'm abandoning you again."  
  
That confession taking Steve by surprise, he opened his mouth and lacked words to say back as Bucky winced and clenched his jaw, frustrated at himself for saying what he had. Steve simply drew a breath and said, "Listen... I don't want you to feel like that. I understand your reasons. And you're right, it's your decision and nobody else's. I just... wish you'd reconsider."  
  
Bucky sighed and then dropped back on the bed, lying down with his legs dangling off the edge. "Well... seeing you break down like that makes me wish I would too."  
  
That didn't make Steve feel any better. He didn't want to cause Bucky to feel guilt or any other negative emotion. He should have just kept his mouth shut and bottled his emotions more tightly and been supportive like the friend he was supposed to be, even if it had killed him inside.   
  
Eyes closed and arm tossed over his head, Bucky said, "So... let's say I changed my mind. Just hypothetically. What's your plan? Where would we go? What would we do?"  
  
Steve glanced back at him, suddenly feeling more tired than he had in ages. He laid down too, next to his best friend as he drew a breath and said, "Well, I figured we'd stay here long enough to get you a new arm. That's first on the agenda."  
  
"Would make washing my hair a little easier," Bucky quipped. Steve almost smiled.   
  
"Haircut too," Steve added.  
  
Bucky cracked open an eye. "Why?"  
  
"Because the hair gives you away," Steve said, looking at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You'd instantly be like... 70% less recognizable."  
  
"And what about you, Mr. Global Icon?" Bucky shot back. "A hat only goes so far."  
  
Steve shrugged and turned his eyes back to the ceiling. "Maybe I'd take Nat's advice and grow a beard."  
  
"Yeah, nobody would recognize you then," Bucky chuckled. "So then what?"  
  
"... Then we figure out where we wanna go," Steve said. "We got the Quinjet. We can go anywhere. But we'd have to pay a visit to the Raft first."  
  
"Prison breaks are always fun," Bucky mused.   
  
"Once everyone's free... maybe we... take a long island vacation?" Steve suggested, not meaning for it to come out sounding like a question. "Going somewhere warm sounds nice. And I've never really... taken... a vacation."  
  
Bucky furrowed his brows. "Never?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "Not really. Never been to the Bahamas either."  
  
"Not remote enough," Bucky opined. "You'd have to find the most isolated rock in the ocean."  
  
"Well, I don't know about that," Steve said. "Can't be too isolated. I can't farm and grow our own food, you know."  
  
"You're a disgrace," Bucky teased, smiling while Steve chuckled.   
  
"Just need to find somewhere private," Steve said. "T'Challa can probably help with that."  
  
"And your girlfriend," Bucky added.   
  
"She's not my girlfriend," Steve sighed, hoping Sharon wasn't also in the Raft by now as a result of her aid to Steve and his team.   
  
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind paying you a visit though," Bucky grinned, glancing at Steve. "Least that's the impression I got from where I was sitting in that car."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Steve muttered, brushing him off. He certainly liked Sharon, but he couldn't see much of a future for them given the current state of things. Being on the right side of the law as she was, Steve kind of had to keep his distance.   
  
A few moments of silence passed before Bucky took a breath and said, "It's not that I don't want to do it, Steve. I'd love to just... stop worrying and go live somewhere nice and just... live. But I -"  
  
"You can't," Steve nodded, staring up at the ceiling. "I know. I understand."  
  
Bucky's eyes were on him, and Steve could feel it. "But I don't like leaving you like this. You're worrying me."  
  
Steve shook his head and sat up, blowing out a breath. "I'm fine."  
  
Still laying down and still watching Steve, Bucky replied quietly, "No you're not."  
  
Steve paused. He couldn't pretend with Bucky, no matter how hard he tried. That much had never changed. "No, I'm not. But I will be."  
  
As unconvincing as those words were, they were all Steve had and Bucky had no choice but to accept them and hope that they were true. It was late, so it wasn't much longer after that when Steve hit the lights and they both got ready for bed. This time Bucky insisted that Steve sleep in the damn bed, and after a bit of utterly futile arguing, Steve gave in and took the other side of the bed. There was hardly any room between them but it didn't really matter, and they both fell asleep surprisingly quickly in the new arrangement.   
  
Steve told himself as he drifted off to enjoy it while it lasted, because after tomorrow, who knew when he'd see Bucky again.   
  
He told himself that he understood, that it made sense, that he wasn't hurt. But while he did understand and it did make sense, he was hurt and the ache in his heart hadn't eased one bit since his earlier breakdown. He didn't expect it to get better any time soon.   
  
It was another burden to bear, and that seemed to be what he did best - shoulder burden after burden until one of these days, he'd just collapse and perhaps not get back up.   
  
He could almost hear Peggy chuckling and calling him  _so dramatic_ , from wherever she was now. _Almost_.   
  
OOO  
  
It was in the dead of night when Steve shot awake from a nightmare, the worst one that he'd had in months. He woke up in tears and gasping for breath, instantly waking Bucky up too almost the very moment his own eyes opened.   
  
He sat up in the bed, sweating and cold and hot at the same time, breathing hard and feeling like he was breaking apart at the seams. The dream had been a too-bright, too-real mashup of all the worst moments in his life, the weight of Peggy's casket pulling him down throughout the entire thing, Bucky's screams haunting his ears, the Valkyrie crashing into the ice, losing everything and everyone all over again. Flashes of war, of death, of things he'd never forget no matter how badly he wished he would, every failure and loss shoved in his face to make sure he'd never move on. And then to wake up from that and remember where he was - in Wakanda, about to lose Bucky again the next day - it was enough to make him break down all over again.   
  
"Hey," Bucky said quietly, reaching out and touching Steve's shoulder, trying to comfort him in some way. "S'okay. Just a nightmare."  
  
Steve shook his head, "it was real, all of it. Memories and... war and...  _God_." He dropped his face into his hands, just wanting to catch a damn break for once, but that was apparently never gonna happen.   
  
"It's over now," Bucky said, hand still on his shoulder, voice still gentle. "Just breathe. S'all right. I'm here."  
  
 _I'm here._ But tomorrow, he wouldn't be. And that was when something inside of Steve shattered, and everything he did next came purely out of desperate, broken instinct and need.   
  
He turned towards Bucky, sitting just a breath away from him, really, and pled with him almost pathetically, " _Please_  don't go back under tomorrow."   
  
Bucky's sleepy, concerned face fell. " _Steve_..."  
  
"Just... please," Steve said desperately, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "You don't have to. We can... we can figure everything out and..."  
  
"Steve," Bucky repeated as if it was killing him to keep saying no, "you know why I can't do that. Please stop making me say no to you."  
  
Intellectually, Steve knew there was no hope of changing Bucky's mind. But Steve was currently being ruled by his heart rather than a single cell of his brain, and when Steve was faced with impossible, unbeatable odds, he tended to do things that were absolutely reckless and sometimes even just flat out stupid. He would act rather than think, out of a sometimes rather dangerous impulsivity, and this time was no exception.   
  
Crying and throwing a fit wouldn't work. Neither would begging. The only thing left was to suspend all rational thought and do something almost guaranteed to just confuse Bucky rather than change his mind. But at least it was  _something_.   
  
And so, tossing aside all logic and reason, Steve grabbed him and kissed him. He knew it was ridiculous and he didn't care, at least until he heard the muffled noise of surprise that Bucky made against his lips. That single, barely audible noise made him suddenly realize what he'd just done, and just as quickly as the kiss began, Steve then pulled away with a jolt and a semi-horrified, "Oh,  _God_ , I'm sorry, I..."  
  
Bucky stared at him, at an utter loss and confused but maybe not as much as he should have been. Steve, blushing with embarrassment and words stuck in his throat, looked at Bucky with a mixture of shame and sadness and that same hollowness that Bucky couldn't stand to see anymore.   
  
"Just... forget I did that," Steve muttered. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just -"  
  
To his shock, a warm hand slipped behind his neck and then pulled him in, and Bucky shut him up by laying a much less rushed and far more gentle kiss on his lips. That was all it was, just one little kiss, and then Bucky drew away with his hand still resting on Steve's neck. "It's okay," he murmured, looking Steve in the eye. "I understand."  
  
Steve's brows furrowed. "You do?" Steve himself hardly understood his own actions, so how could anyone else?  
  
Bucky's hand slid to Steve's shoulder and lingered there. "We just did this like... a week ago," Bucky chuckled quietly. "And I hurt you today. I'm sorry."  
  
Steve shook his head, eyes falling away. "Don't be. I overreacted. I'm still overreacting."  
  
"Not the way I see it," Bucky told him. "You know... you told me back at that safe house in Russia that you just wanted to help me however you could. You know I'll do the same for you. If you want it."  
  
Steve stared at him, surprised and confused and yet not at all, really. But  _did_  he want it? His brain was such a jumbled mess of all sorts of things he didn't want to deal with, and now that he'd gone and gotten himself in this situation... maybe he  _did_  want it. The comfort and the closeness, the relief of not being so alone for a little while, of sharing something like this with someone that he trusted more than anyone else in the world...   
  
His eyes lifted up and met Bucky's, and one tiny, barely-there nod of his head was all the confirmation Bucky needed. Bucky's expression changed then, became a little darker and more determined, and it sent a flash of heat down Steve's spine that he wasn't expecting. Then Bucky leaned in again, and Steve met him halfway in a kiss that was still a little too timid, considering this wasn't their first time. But this was still far from familiar territory, and Steve was still surprised that Bucky was okay with this.   
  
... Was he?   
  
"Wait," Steve said, breaking away breathlessly. "Are you sure? If you don't want to -"  
  
"Jesus, Steve," Bucky rolled his eyes, inching closer to Steve and sliding his hand to his short hair. "I just wish I had both my hands."  
  
"... Oh," Steve replied a bit dumbly, just before Bucky kissed him again.   
  
They really should talk about this, he thought. They hadn't talked about the first time once since it had happened, minus Bucky's mention of it only minutes earlier, and he was about to break away to say something but then Bucky did something with his tongue that was... _dizzying_ , and he decided that they could talk later.   
  
Bucky really was an incredible kisser, he couldn't deny that. He'd never kissed anyone with equal skill - except maybe for Peggy, but their only kiss had just been too damn fleeting to know - and Steve was losing his head fast. He didn't even notice the way that Bucky was tugging at his shirt until he broke away and muttered, " _Off_."  
  
He complied quickly, pulling the shirt off and dropping it as Bucky did the same with his own, and when their lips collided again, so did a lot more bare skin than Steve knew what to do with. Last time they'd kept their shirts on and it had made sense, but this time it was very different already. It wasn't a weird accidental thing that they had stumbled into cautiously and awkwardly, but rather something that was very deliberate and, by the looks of things, equally desired. Steve knew already that things were going to go further than before, there was no doubt, and the thought made him both unspeakably nervous and _shamefully_ excited.   
  
Hesitantly, Steve brought his hands up from his sides and let them hover for a moment of uncertainty before letting them fall on Bucky's waist. It was the safest place he could think of and yet not safe at all, and he was thinking entirely too much but he couldn't help it because -   
  
" _Tell me what you want_ ," came Bucky's low almost-whisper as he kissed down Steve's jaw, giving him a minute to catch his breath.   
  
"... What?" Steve replied, panting and not fully comprehending words or the very concept of them.   
  
Bucky looked up and met his gaze, looking a little bit amused and altogether more coherent than Steve but no less affected by what was happening. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
Steve stared at his friend, mind drawing a magnificent and embarrassing blank. "I... I don't know, I've never... you know I've never..."  
  
"Steve," Bucky said gently, "c'mon. You've been on dates. You told me you have."  
  
"Dates, yeah, but I haven't... done... anything," Steve admitted uncomfortably, unable to help but feel a little embarrassed.   
  
Bucky furrowed his brows in immense confusion. " _Why not?_ "   
  
"I don't know, it just... never felt right," Steve shrugged, wishing they'd stop talking about it and go back to what they were doing before.   
  
"... But this does?"  
  
Steve paused, knowing the answer without having to think on it much. He just knew. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "It does. I guess because I trust you."  
  
Bucky's expression softened, his eyes giving away what it meant to have Steve's full and unconditional trust when he didn't even trust himself. His hand moved to the back of Steve's neck and he pulled him in again, kissing him softly and deeply and making them both lose their breath.   
  
... He could do this all night and be perfectly happy, Steve was sure of it. And for awhile that was all they did, kiss and touch and breathe and sigh, getting lost in the simplicity and comfort of it all. Bucky kissed him like he was trying to seduce him, sometimes wandering to his jaw and his neck, doing things with his lips and tongue that made Steve's entire body shiver with delight, and Steve was starting to understand why all the girls had always liked Bucky so much. They were only _kissing_ and his heart was already beating out of his chest.   
  
But Steve managed to at least stay quiet until the first time he felt teeth. It was a slow, gentle nip at his earlobe and he hadn't been expecting it, so he couldn't help the shaky moan that came out of his mouth. The minute Bucky heard it, he pulled away and looked at Steve with a darker heat in his eyes than before and then pushed him down on his back, climbing over him and placing his arm on the bed next to Steve's head before kissing him long and hot, body pressed down against his and making Steve's head spin.   
  
Steve liked all of this a _lot_. Slowly he was losing his ability to think, the pain and fear that had led them to all of this mostly forgotten as he let himself simply _feel_ , and there was a lot to feel. Bucky was rolling their hips together now and Steve was finally gaining some confidence with his hands, letting them roam up and down his back and then into his hair as their kisses grew almost sloppy. It was good, so very _very_ good but he wanted more and wasn't sure what to do about it. He still wasn't even sure what he wanted, just that he wanted _more_.   
  
After Bucky's lips fell to his neck again, Steve felt teeth once more, this time near his pulse point. He had the same reaction as the first time, moaning quietly and beyond his control, and this time Bucky murmured, "You like biting. So do I."  
  
Steve opened his mouth to retort but fell short when Bucky dragged his teeth down to his collarbone, licking just beneath it and kissing before biting him again, soothing the spot with his tongue and then traveling lower, repeating the cycle until Steve was squirming and could hardly stand it. He reached his limit when Bucky reached his ribs, accidentally tickling him enough to make him gasp and jerk away. Bucky looked up and grinned, "Sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Steve replied, looking down at Bucky and tucking a bit of rogue hair behind his ear. Something about looking down at him in that position with kiss-swollen lips made a thought flash through Steve's mind, one that made him blush and twitch with a sudden rush of desire. Bucky must have felt it and known somehow because something changed in his eyes and then he was working his way back down, further and further until his body was between Steve's legs and he was tugging his pants down with one hand.   
  
Steve felt like his entire body was about to combust. This was _crazy_ \- was Bucky seriously about to - "Bucky, you... you don't have to..."  
  
"Shut up, Steve," Bucky replied, getting Steve's pants down far enough to free his length.   
  
 _Oh God._ "But -"  
  
Bucky looked up at him and held his gaze as he wrapped his hand around him, stroking soft and slow like it was completely natural, nothing to even think twice about. Steve forgot how to speak and Bucky couldn't help but grin. "Yeah?"  
  
Steve wanted to call him a smug bastard but the words just wouldn't form. Instead he dropped his head back and all but bit his tongue to stay quiet, feeling stupid for being embarrassed of his own reactions but wanting to stay in control of at least _something_. But it felt entirely too good to be touched by someone else, so incredibly different and more exciting than if it were his own hand, and he was perfectly content to lay there and close his eyes and get lost in it, let Bucky work him up until it was too much and there was nothing left to do but...   
  
That was what Steve expected. But when he felt the distinct, unmistakable warmth of a tongue experimentally flick against his tip, it was a jolt of shock and heat through his veins and his eyes shot open, followed by a barely-coherent noise that was meant to be a word of some kind but came out instead as a sort of strangled gasp.   
  
He looked down at Bucky and Bucky looked up at him before a smile slowly broke across his lips and he started laughing. _Laughing_. The jerk was actually laughing.   
  
And Steve really, _really_ hated him, because then he laughed too and _what was even happening?_  
  
"I'm sorry," Bucky said, reining in the laughter and shaking his head. "It's just... I can honestly say I never thought I'd be in bed with you, sucking you off, but..."  
  
Steve swallowed the whimper that nearly escaped his lips. "You don't have to."  
  
"I know I don't have to," Bucky said, casually stroking his hand up and down a few more times, "but it's about time somebody did."  
  
 _Oh God_. "But -"  
  
"Steve," Bucky said, shifting to get more comfortable and giving him a playful half-glare, "shut up and let me fucking do this."  
  
Steve swallowed hard, relenting without another word. He didn't even have time to start worrying and overthinking because Bucky wasted no time, time being a precious thing they didn't have a lot of, and slowly took him into his mouth and gave Steve a new and _incredible_ experience.   
  
It didn't matter that Bucky was a little clumsy at first and cautious and clearly inexperienced, because Steve was every bit the same things and every touch was a brand new and overwhelming sensory event. He kept his eyes closed and stopped trying to stay silent, the task proving impossible the deeper Bucky took him and the more confident he grew in his movements. Bucky would probably make some self-serving remark later about being a quick learner and Steve wouldn't even care because God it was true, it was getting better by the second and he could barely stand it.

Out of instinct his hand drifted to Bucky's head, fingertips brushing his hair before retreating in uncertainty. But Bucky caught his hand and pulled it back to his hair with a quick glance upwards, and Steve curled his hand into a tight fist within those dark locks and let his head fall back once more, giving in and letting go of how surreal and strange this all was because more than anything it was _good_ , better than good and everything he hadn't known that he needed.

And as it all came to a head and he felt himself reach the breaking point, Steve couldn't stop his instant gut reaction to being so close to that precipice. He wanted more than anything to surrender and let go, but instead he started pulling on Bucky's hair and panting in almost a panic, " _Stop, stop, Bucky, stop_."

Bucky complied, pulling off and up with a slightly dazed look about him. "What?" he asked in confusion, tossing his hair back and out of his face, then working his jaw for a moment, like it was a bit stiff after the performance he'd just given.

Steve sat up and slid a hand behind his head, pulling him close and replying softly, "I don't want this to be over yet."

Bucky stared back at him for only a moment before they were kissing again, everything fading into a pleasant blur despite the way that inevitability loomed over them both. No matter what, this _would_ come to an end and Steve would be right back where he began, mere hours away from saying goodbye to Bucky yet again. But until then, he was gonna make this last for as long as he could.

He laid Bucky down on the bed, head hitting the pillows softly and eyes meeting his as Steve stretched over him. Bucky's arm slid to his back and pulled him down, bringing some of Steve's weight with him, and then Steve kissed him hard enough to surprise _himself_. Bucky didn't seem to mind, however, kissing him back and moving his hand lower, pushing down so their hips collided and pressed together. Bucky groaned and pushed up against him, and Steve couldn't help but push back until they were building a rhythm together, much like their first unexpected encounter a week before.

But Steve wanted more than that this time, and Bucky sure as hell deserved more after what he'd already done for Steve. So Steve reached between them and tried to do away with Bucky's pants one handedly, then became frustrated and broke their kiss to pull away just long enough to get rid of the damn things, then dove back down and immediately captured his lips again. Bucky responded even more hungrily than before, groaning into the kiss before letting out a breathless moan against his lips when Steve's hand wrapped around him and gave a slow, cautious stroke.

Bucky's eyes met Steve's again as they shared the same ragged, shallow breaths, Steve moving his hand up and down and Bucky slowly letting his eyes drift shut in relief and pleasure. Steve reveled in watching him, and knowing that each sigh and furrow of his brows and tremble was because of Steve and what he was doing... it did _something_ to him. He wanted to see more, hear more, watch Bucky fall apart underneath him from his touch, feel that sense of satisfaction that might even eclipse that of his own pleasure, and _holy hell he never would have expected all of it to be this good._

But it really, _really_ was.

Steve's lips were tracing along Bucky's collarbone when Bucky out a rough curse and sunk his nails into Steve's back. Steve instantly groaned and, overcome by something in that moment, bit down and earned a quiet yelp of a moan from Bucky.

" _Fucking hell_ ," Bucky groaned, and Steve chuckled and lifted his head to look down at him.

"You _said_ you like biting," Steve shrugged, a glint of mischief in his heated eyes.

"Yeah, I fucking do," Bucky replied, his hand suddenly moving and disappearing in the negligible space between them, looking Steve in the eye as he took him in his hand and started stroking him back. Steve shuddered and dropped his head back down, breathing against Bucky's jaw and groaning softly, closing his eyes and relishing the pleasure as they started moving in the same rhythm, gradually moving faster and faster with each passing moment.

He wanted to keep dragging it out, he truly did but he just couldn't do it anymore. It was all too good, the shared heat between them too consuming, too satisfying, too real, and he was lost in it until Bucky's voice stirred him back to the present.

"Steve," Bucky murmured, just on the verge of erratic in his breaths and movements. " _Steve_."

Steve lifted his head and looked down at Bucky, wanting to ask what he needed but finding that his voice wasn't quite working in that moment.

"Kiss me," Bucky all but pled, unable to just pull Steve's lips to his with his only hand otherwise occupied.

Steve's eyes flashed and then he complied, kissing him long and hard and hot and without restraint, and he was pleased to find that Bucky's finesse was all but gone. He was all sheer need, purely desire and instinct, and when his jaw went slack and he let out a shudder of a gasp against Steve's lips, his entire body tensing before shaking and spilling over Steve's hand. It was such a lovely, filthy sight, one Steve wouldn't forget, and he buried his face in Bucky's neck one last time as he finally gave in and reached his own mind-blowing end.

For what felt like ages, Steve was lost in a pleasant and dreamy haze that he would later wish had lasted even longer than it did. It was peaceful and warm, comforting and familiar and everything life rarely ever was. He was lying on top of his best friend, nose brushing the base of his throat and legs tangled together, both of them a damn mess and the bed more so, but it was the best kind of mess, Steve thought.

Steve didn't want to move and Bucky made no indication that he objected, so he stayed exactly where he was and savored every last bit of it. He listened to Bucky's breathing slowly regulate back to normal, closing his eyes when he felt a hand slide softly up his back, fingers tripping along his spine and eventually settling for his hair. Bucky sweetly and idly ran his fingers soothingly through Steve's hair, just as Steve imagined he'd done to plenty of sleepy and satisfied girls back in his day, and the thought of being the one to receive such touches now almost made him chuckle.

But he couldn't laugh because reality was back, and with it those terrible things he could no longer avoid.

His voice was rough and low when he finally spoke. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?"

Bucky waited a little bit to answer, though Steve knew exactly what he was gonna say. "No, Steve."

As much as he had expected it, it still felt like another knife to the heart. Steve nodded and moved to turn away and finally stop using Bucky as a giant body pillow, but the minute he tried, Bucky's arm tightened around him and prevented him from going anywhere.

"Stay," Bucky said softly, more of a plea than a demand. Steve was surprised, but he didn't dare squander such an opportunity. He stayed right where he was and, when Bucky haphazardly grabbed at one of the sheets and tossed it over them, snuggled in more closely and without an ounce of shame. He needed this, and he had a feeling Bucky needed it even more.

In the quiet of the night - or very early morning, as it happened to be at that point - Steve could hear nothing but the sound of their breathing, making his next words seem strangely loud even though he spoke them barely above a whisper. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you too," Bucky replied quietly. Steve couldn't be sure, but he thought Bucky might have pressed a feather-soft kiss into his hair before he added, "Don't do anything stupid while I'm under."

Steve huffed softly. "How can I? Taking all the stupid with you. As usual."

"I mean it," Bucky replied. "Just go lay low somewhere for awhile. Relax, watch stupid movies or something. Grow a beard. Get your head on straight."

Steve nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah. I'll try."

There was a lot more to say on both of their parts and a lot more to talk about, they both knew it, but it would have to wait until later. The day was breaking outside their windows and sleep was pulling at their eyes, stealing their last few hours together away, and there was nothing they could do about it. Soon they would part ways again for God only knew how long, and Steve would be without a piece of himself again, but if nothing else... he was used to it. He would live. He'd survive. They would see each other again, hopefully in a better and more peaceful time than their reunions tended to take place within.

But for then, he slept. It was the last time he would sleep well for a long time and he knew it. It was bittersweet but he was grateful for the pain-tinged comfort, the good and the bad and the sweetness and the grief, because all of it was far, _far_ better than feeling nothing at all.

And that - the numb, lukewarm, seemingly endless _nothing_ \- was what would take Bucky's place once he was gone. He dreaded it with every ounce of his being, but he wanted Bucky to be healthy and whole more than he wanted to be happy. And Bucky having the freedom to choose for himself was even more crucial. That was most important.

Until then... Steve would wait. He would wait as long as it took.

 

 

 


End file.
